put that kid back in diapers

"Put that kid back in diapers!" I exclaimed to my wife while picking up a particularly nasty bowel movement from the floor that fell out of the pull-up. These girls!!!

Just kidding. This particular BM came from the boy. Doggone it, if he isn't stubborn. Madeline and Terra have more patience with him than I am able to muster. In fairness, however, I have picked up more than they have.

Despite my complaining, my wife's perseverance is paying off. "I got to go potty," Jack runs to us clenching himself as if he's holding the solitary finger in the dam that's ready to burst. Jack's finally ready to get out of the diapers and move onto the bigger, more cottony things. He's done this in a much longer time frame than both of his sisters.

Maybe that means it will stick longer? Somehow I don't think so, and I'm positive it won't be my problem.

the shredder

I have a shredder. Doesn't every paranoid person worry about fruit flies, identity theft, and pink shirts?

I shredded some papers after paying a few bills today. Jack helped. I went upstairs to find out how the delicious dinner I smelled was progressing.

Then from the downstairs I heard, "grrrrrrrr," from the cutting head on my cheap shredder.

"What the heck did Jack shred?" I thought. I still don't know. Hopefully not something I needed.